


Passionate Red

by ZephyrCamida



Series: Color Your Arousal [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Worship, Dates, Fingering, First Time, Light Food Play, M/M, Porn Shops, also this got really fucking long, blowjob, chubby!marco, i'm so sorry!, loads of fluffy feelings, nerdy boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 11:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1939161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZephyrCamida/pseuds/ZephyrCamida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean and Marco celebrate their one year together by spending the day being absolutely glued to one another, a date to end all dates. But Marco soon realizes, past the endless euphoria, that the closer you are, the more you notice the things you never saw before. He sees that he and Jean aren't as different as he thought. And thus, their relationship begins to shift, and Marco learns about the other side of Jean that he never would have dreamed of knowing. </p><p>But Marco learns – he learns and he loves. </p><p> </p><p>"Marco leans back, rests on his aching knees once again, and sucks in a startled breath when Jean shifts on the pillows, partially sitting up. Marco can't help but eye the blond's perfectly round ass, that sweet  spot as Jean lifts his legs to brace his feet flat on the mattress. Marco's unsure of what is really happening until the gap between Jean's legs widens, the muscles of his thighs wire tight and flexing under the stretch, exposing himself completely. "</p><p> </p><p>Sequel to Tender Red -- six months later</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passionate Red

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my other long as heck one shot, Tender Red. It's not necessary to read that one to get this, but there are references so I do encourage it. :) And thank you for almost 2000 hits and all the love for Tender Red, it means the world to this old, rusty writer. <3

**Passionate Red**

 

* * *

 

 

Marco ignores the blast of cold air that smacks him dead in the face as he slowly steps out of the passenger side of his boyfriend's car. Buries the fact that it doesn't even take five steps for his bare fingers to tingle with a fit of discomfort from the biting chill of a late January evening, having forgotten his gloves in the throes of his effervescent mood earlier that day. He lets it all pass by like water spilling over a cupped palm - the breeze making his round-tipped nose dry, the dark clouds that will soon enough bring snow, and the crackling parking lot lamp that blinks out momentarily. 

No, Marco is focusing all his attention, his thoughts, the _thump, thump,_ thumping in his ribcage on the events of this past day. On his approaching boyfriend who finishes locking his car and trots over with a cheeky grin before digging into one of Marco's coat pockets to clutch the bare, cold-protesting hand inside. He rubs Marco's hand tenderly, leaving little flickers of heat on his skin. He smiles, listens to the murmurs, playful and scolding for him leaving the house without proper wear. Jean's eyes are soft though, incredibly so, and he subtly squeezes Marco's fingers as he urges the brunette to walk a little faster to escape the frosty evening air. Brown eyes watch the condensation that billows from Jean's mouth along with the soft 'Are your hands okay?'s, 'I love you's, and 'Babe, look, it's snowing'.

Marco feels like it should be impossible to understand it, how his heart feels like it's being tossed around within his chest like the express spin cycle of their rattling washer at home. It's tight, intense, maddening, yet at the same time, he understands perfectly. Today marks one year that he and Jean have been together.

One year.

_One year._

Three hundred and sixty five days.

Eight thousand and something something hours, because his brain too full of mush to do the math.

Marco is blown away. Marco is ecstatic, overwhelmed, absolutely _twitterpated_ over the man next to him. He's in so deep that he's drowning in a pool of euphoria, and he never wants to escape.

They both enter the warmly lit establishment, the rush of warm air feeling quite amazing on Marco's flushed cheeks. The door jingles from the tacky silver bell that hangs from the top corner, the sound vaguely reminding Marco of a rusty cowbell. Though Marco's not paying much attention after that, ignoring the desk clerk that vaguely looks up from her magazine to acknowledge them with a curt nod, and lets Jean lead him down a random aisle as he still floats on cloud nine. He's still remembering the previous events of the day like a favorite song on repeat; he doesn't think he can be blamed for that.

He would let his turbulent heart shout from the rooftops if it were possible.

He thinks back, still _feels_ the way Jean woke him with more soft kisses on his lips – forehead, nose, jaw, fingertips – than he could count. The hazy, sultry amber gaze that had pierced him with a steel sharpness that snatched his breath away, made him sigh as his arms naturally circled Jean's nape to pull their bodies together. The way Jean purred against his throat as Marco coiled his soft legs around his waist – urged him deeper inside, a gentle love making in the early morning.

There was the delicious breakfast of Belgian waffles with homemade strawberry jam from Jean's grandmother and fresh fruit from the market. And of course, even when it had been a bitter, cold morning, Jean bought that light roast coffee from his favorite cafe down the street.

They spent the late morning lounging in boxers and watching absolutely nothing on television while snuggled under a blanket – the remnants of cinnamon, coffee, and the cedar and pine hints of Jean's cologne danced in Marco's nostrils, invading between the intense kisses of their 'commercial break' that left Marco gasping for air.

Marco still feels the heat, the passion in those kisses and _god,_ he will never get enough.

Then, there was dinner at the lovely Italian restaurant downtown that had the delicious rosemary bread Jean knew Marco loved.

The blatant way Jean completely ignored the tacky words of the greeter who seated them, sitting in the chair next to Marco instead of across from him where the second menu had been placed as if it's the most natural thing in the world, scooting it closer even. Marco was certain Jean noticed the terse look the man gave them. He heard Jean's jaw click when the greeter walked away.

Marco brushed his knuckles against Jean's hand as they looked over the menu, and the way Jean's face twisted immediately from its displeased demeanor to a low-lidded smile unleashed a new wave of butterflies in Marco's belly. As did the moment Jean took his hand and traced tender strokes over his palm when the same greeter came with their waters and slightly drowned words of who their waitress would be and so on. How Jean suddenly started talking about a show he saw about palm reading – how Jean even managed to pay attention to what they were watching that morning between make outs was beyond Marco – touching his heart line.

_Who the fuck are you to be looking us like that?_

Marco could see the statement in the look on Jean's face, loud as if he had actually said the words himself. The man didn't bother Marco, he was long used to such things and no longer bothered to care. It's not like they knew him, _them_ or their lives, but the sentiment of a protective boyfriend warmed him down to his very core.

He remembers how the (much more friendly) waitress gave Marco a gentle smile, eyes a knowing blue as she set his plate down, asking if his boyfriend was as much of a cheesy romantic as he looked. Jean laughed, the icy wall he presented to the previous greeter gone, and claimed to be undefeatable in the romantic department. It had made Marco red in the face, such obvious displays of affection, but he loved it none the less. The waitress shared that lighthearted chuckle, _I'm sure my girlfriend would take you up on that challenge,_ she replied before leaving them to their meals.

One meal, a second friendly exchange about ridiculously dorky partners, and a hefty tip later, they exited the restaurant – content and happy. Not even the frumpy greeter budged Jean's smile, nor his grip that tightened on Marco's hand as they walked out the french doors. To Jean, no one else existed, and Marco almost felt like such a thing was unreal.

 _You're my boyfriend, this is our anniversary, that's all I need to care about –_ was what he had said when they exited the restaurant, lacing their fingers intimately like he always did.

It wasn't the first time Marco's heart fluttered that day, nor was it the second, or fifth. He probably couldn't count the times he'd fallen in love with this amazing man all over again just in the last twelve hours with one hand.

An impossible feat, to say the least.

Marco even thinks about the car ride to their current location, mere minutes ago, as childish as that seems to him. Jean always kept a hand on Marco's person, always touching and chattering about nonsense because he wanted to talk. Because he'd been jittery too and that makes Marco crash all over again. Because he knows that Jean is just as head over heels as he is, encroaching over the line of being in love to being flat out crazy for him. Crazy in love, if Marco were to quote Queen B, and he will because that's how he feels and he doesn't quite know how else to explain the barrage of emotions that attack him without becoming a blubbering mess.

Relentless, sweet, and powerful; Jean is all of that, and –

“How about this, babe?” the question pops him from his mental walk down blissful memory lane, as does the purple dick that's suddenly in his face. Jean's eyebrows are wiggling with over exaggeration, a toothy grin spreading wide.

Jean is also the biggest dork he's _ever_ met.

“Oh my god, Jean! Ahahaha!” Marco reels back, sputtering as he swats the phallic offense from his face and almost manages to glare at his giggling boyfriend as Marco passes by him. Almost. Jean's following behind him shortly after putting the toy back, attaching himself to Marco's back, hands latching onto his hips and waddling behind him like a penguin. He gives him a small squeeze and Marco can practically feel the glowing grin from behind him.

“Should I take that as a no?” Jean asks, headbutting Marco's back playfully.

Marco snorts, short, “No.”

“Aww, _really_?” Marco can tell Jean's joking, but he still raises an eyebrow, staring straight ahead as if thinking hard. He shakes his head and looks over his shoulder at the clinging man, lips pursed.

“Nu-uh,” he sticks his tongue out. “If I'm gonna have a dick in my ass, it's gonna have to be yours. Tough break, baby.” He hears the lighthearted chuckles by his ear and his heart dances – he falls – once again. The number of times exceeds two hands now. He feels Jean gnawing on his shoulder through the thick coat and stops at the end of the aisle. Jean taps his forehead against Marco's back,  suddenly quiet.

“Me too,” Marco barely misses the murmur, and shifts.

“Hmm?”

“I said that's good,” Jean says quickly. “I might've gotten jealous.”

“Of what, the color purple?”

“Pffft!” Jean tilts his head back to cackle, then smooths his hands around Marco's fleshy hips and snatches a quick squeeze of his butt before sauntering around him. “Mmm, so sassy today.”

_Look who's talking._

They cross into the next section, eying the various novelties and playthings one typically finds in a porn shop. A shelf of several lubricants catches Marco's eye and he stops to look for anything interesting. For the most part, intimate purchases were either made in a local general store like Walmart or in rare cases, online. Having never thoroughly explored a porn shop (as last time was strictly one area with Bertholdt to buy his red negligee), Marco finds himself turning more and more red as he explores. Jean reaches out from his right and pulls a bottle to examine.

“Flavored lube, huh? Too bad they all still taste like shit,” he raises a brow at the item. “They're certainly getting more creative with the flavors though. Mai Tai? Bahama Mama? Red Velvet Cupcake? Good god.”

“ _Ohh_ , I like Red Velvet Cupcakes. Heh.” Marco bites his lip and looks at Jean suggestively. A loud _snrrrk_ leaves his boyfriend's nose in return as he places the lube in his hand back on the shelf.

“I will make you as many of them as you want, but my dick stays cupcakeless.”

Marco can't help be laugh as he eyes the flavors, “Remember the pina colada one we bought online once?”

“Oh my fuckin' god, don't even go there! I couldn't even feel my tongue for _three hours_.”

“Hahaha!!”

They move along, the slow and humorous browsing leads them to the clothing aisle. Large mannequin displays with a unique array of wardrobe that look all too familiar to Marco's brown eyes. Jean senses his change of manner and pinches a chubby cheek.

“Huuuu, I see where Bertholdt took you now, you scamp.” he murmurs hotly, finding the exact clone of the red lingerie set Marco had hanging in the back of their closet at home. He flicks the fluttering hem with a finger and clicks his tongue, looking back at the glaringly red boyfriend behind him. “I'm glad you picked the red one.”

“ _Are you now?_ ” Marco tosses back in an attempt to not let his flustered behavior show. He's used to Jean being very verbal about his opinions, used to Jean's provocative nature, and yet –

“ _Mhmm_ ,” Jean hums, closing in on Marco, fingers brushing against his thigh. “I love the way the color makes your curves flush, and how sensitive your body becomes. Especially _here._ ” His touch, feathery, strokes over Marco's groin. His cock instantly twitches beneath the touch, and Marco jumps involuntarily.

“Oh my god, Jean!” Marco's face feels like it's ready to burst into flames. He whirls around, looking at the clerk at the front of the store, as if she could hear them all the way across the area. He scrunches his nose at his laughing lover and softly bats at his shoulders. “Shh!”

Okay, used to it, but there isn't an angel in heaven that could stop Marco from becoming a blushing blob on the floor. _Damnit, Jean, you seducer!_

“Babeeee,” Jean chuckles, stepping towards the blushing brunette to press a slow, teasing peck to Marco's lips. “Don't be embarrassed. You know how much that outfit turns me on. Well, it's _you_ , so obviously.” He shrugs and with a small grin, leads the insanely red Marco away with a soft tug of his wrist.

“I wonder if this is how Reiner feels when he makes Bertl flustered, haha.”

Marco thinks a moment, “With them, I'm sure that goes both ways.”

Jean's head pops back as he comes to a halt in the video section, “Both ways? You serious? Like...”

“According to Bertholdt, yep.”

“I – I see.” Jean clears his throat seconds later.

Marco nods in agreement, then eyes his watch, “We've been wandering for almost an hour. If we're gonna buy something...”

“Hmm. Could always go with porn, I guess.” Jean picks up a random case and flips it to glance at the back. He grimaces a moment before putting it back. Marco eyes the title – Attack of the Monster Tits – and shudders a little himself.

_Alright then._

“Considering we're a hop, skip and mouse click away from loads of free porn, I'd say that's a waste of money really.”

“True,” Jean says. “Well, how about this? How about I let you pick something you'd like? I'll go wait in the car, get it warmed up for the ride home. Just keep it within our comfort zones and budget and you'll be good. So no porn, no purple dicks, no pina-fucking-colada lube, _and_ no nurse outfits, if you would.”

“Not that I would buy another outfit, but humor me, why no nurse outfits?”

“Nothin' big, just can't say I enjoy the nurse kink, I guess. That slinky number a certain beautiful babe of mine owns is the one way ticket into my pants.” He pretends to point guns at Marco and clicks his tongue twice, winking suggestively.

“Oh my god,” Marco bursts out laughing, curling over himself. “Alright, alright. It's a deal. None of the previously mentioned, keep it cheap. Got it!” Jean's grin widens when Marco pops forward to kiss him quick before walking back towards the front of the store. Marco doesn't notice the slight falter on Jean's face before rounding the corner of the aisle, and continues walking at steady pace towards the smaller novelty items.

As he looks around, Marco focuses on the random games and toys that they had earlier passed. He hums in question, pondering over the various little sex games – _Sexy Truth or Dare_ , _Let's Fuck_ Dice Game (Marco nearly trips over himself), _Strip or Tease_ – occasionally picking one up to read the back. In all honesty, Marco wonders if he and Jean would have the patience to play games. He also wonders if his face would explode from the rushing blood before the game ends. Jean only has to whisper his name in his ear to completely fuck him up, after all. Marco shivers at the thought, and mentally scolds his crotch in half-annoyance.

_Knock it off, you, we're on a mission here._

Marco sighs to himself, not really finding interest in any of the games sold there. He thinks to himself, debating hard over what kind of item he could buy that would be fun for both of them.

He glances up to the front desk again just as he's picking up a set of fluffy pink handcuffs and sees the woman looking right at him. Marco coughs and looks away, more flustered than he wants to be as he puts the cuffs back and hightails it to the opposite aisle.

“My god, Marco, get a grip. Like she cares,” he scolds as he finds himself standing by the lubes again. He receives a buzz from his phone – Jean, of course – telling him that he's waiting in the car and to hurry up because _plans man_ , _winky face_. He snickers and pockets his phone, feeling a little less embarrassed but wanting to hurry up none the less. Marco's eyes rise and he stops dead.

He stops because he sees something he didn't notice last time. Stops because a million thoughts have now just entered his brain, a tidal wave of peculiar perversion. Ideas of just how simple, yet effective this particular product could be – how much potential it has is endless, depending on the route Marco takes with it. Marco can't stop himself from smiling, mind spinning with new found excitement.

This will be perfect for someone like Jean. _Especially_ for Jean.

“Done, and done,” he scans the numerous varieties and brands until he spots what he wants. He snatches it and before he can get flustered at the stare the clerk woman is giving him as he approaches the counter, he sets it down with a clack, along with a twenty. He's not a social butterfly by any means, but he can't help but grin to himself as she hands him his change and the paper-bagged purchase.

“Thanks,” he says, probably one pitch too low and much too provocative for him to even control, if the surprised look the woman gives him is any indication. He swears he hears a _Damn boy_ as he exits out the only set of doors. He's suddenly very enthralled, so ready to do this. The idea is rippling in his skull, plan of attack planted in his mind and all that's left is to get the hell home. While Jean is the passionate one, Marco is definitely the creative one.

 _Holy shit, what's come over me?_ He thinks to himself as he gets into the car, shutting the door with a quick huff and turning to look at Jean a little too fast. Marco has to shake the small dizzy spell, has to wipe the shit ass grin from his face. There's an odd look in Jean's eyes, he notices, but the grin is on his boyfriend's face as well.

Marco's heart pounds and his mind storms violently all the way home.

It takes mere moments of them getting into the door of their apartment for Jean to start peeling the coat from Marco's shoulders, lips attaching to his chilled neck. Marco doesn't even know how Jean got his own jacket off, but he's apparently a miracle stripper and his hands are everywhere on Marco's body. They're sneaking under his shirt, insistently pinching the soft flesh of his round waist, scratching. It's a frighteningly crazy mix of tickles and arousal and Marco starts to stumble over himself as he attempts to remove his shoes. He's giggling, giddy from the onslaught of attention, yet he feels the hints of a groan underlying the bubbles of laughter.

“Jean,” he breathes between clipped gasps, he's so worked up at this point (in mere seconds, he realizes with a stubborn huff) that he's kicking his remaining shoe off his foot and across the room like a field goal kicker just so he can fucking _turn around._ “Jean, you know the drill.”

“The drill?” Jean's mouth is on Marco's chin now, impatience radiating from his eyes. It nearly confuses Marco. “What was the drill again?”

“Rock band, shower, then sex.”

“This isn't sex, babe,” the way he murmurs the words so simply, yet husky against Marco's mouth has him practically slumping into Jean's arms. _Damn, sir._

“It's going to be if you keep this up,” Marco whines, body responding uncontrollably as Jean presses up close to him. Jean kisses him again, and again, a third time before he responds.

“Is this a bad thing?”

“Jean Michael Kirschtein,” he blurts – his last ditch attempt before his lips can be devoured. Jean stops, eying him with melting amber, then smiles with a tiny sniff. Marco sighs silently, but regards Jean with an amused look before turning towards the hallway. “Alright, you kiss monster. Let's go get your ass wrecked.”

Before either of them move, Jean lets out a sudden cough, hand slapping over his mouth. Marco stares incredulously, wondering what the hell just happened. He remembers thinking that Jean was being a little weird since they were at the porn shop, but this cements the thought. Was Jean overly excited?

“Jean?” he asks. He's curious, sure, but concern also takes home in his gut. Jean nods quickly and strides past him, cracking his knuckles.

“Sorry, somethin' in my throat,” he tosses a loopy grin over his shoulder as he disappears into their bedroom. “Come on, I'ma kick your ass, babe.”

Marco snorts.

Thirty-five minutes and several songs later, Marco is laughing his ass off while Jean is leaning over and swatting at his guitar controller. Ballroom Blitz is playing loud from their bedroom television and Marco is about to end on a star streak, even with Jean batting at his guitar and Marco laughing himself to tears. The song ends within seconds, Marco successfully finishing with an irritatingly high score – at least to Jean – and wipes a tear from his eye as he turns to his pouting boyfriend.

“Aww, come on,” he chuckles, nudging him with a fist. “I've played this a lot longer than you.”

“You beat me five out of six times. You scored perfect combos on three of them. On hard. What the fuck are you made of??”

“Nerd power and a love for rock?” Marco laughs louder when Jean slaps him silly on the arm.

“Yeah, well, give me a break! At least sing next time or somethin'...” Jean pauses. “On second thought, never mind.”

Marco smiles innocently, leaning over to kiss the crown of Jean's head, “You beat me at one song though, now didn't you? Black Hole Sun?”

Jean blinks slowly, “Okay, one, that song was like...my high school jam. Two, I have this distinct feeling that you let me win for that very reason. And that's _one song._ Three...”

“Three...?”

“Three,” the blond purrs.

Jean's look is almost feral, teeth baring beneath an aggressive grin as he swipes a hand out to slide the guitar from Marco's lap and onto the carpet floor. Before Marco can even protest, he's tackled backwards to the bed with a tiny yelp. He hears the deep hum from above as his prowling boyfriend jumps him, hands diving under his dress shirt to stroke at the smooth skin of his stomach, his second favorite touch zone. Marco can already feel the heat in his face building to furnace levels when sharp teeth drag along the curve of his jaw, nipping.

“Jean,” Marco murmurs, quick to collapse like puddy under his boyfriend's expert fingers. Fingers that are prodding and caressing over a fleshy body Marco loves just as much as the man above him. He swoons at the soft press of lips on the junction between jaw and neck, sensitive and tingling and it occurs to him that if they keep playing this little game of foreplay tug o' war (and believe him, the way Jean kisses him is as much of a method of foreplay as anything else), then he's not going to last two seconds when they finally make it under the sheets.

_My plan, my plan! Marco, you dolt, don't forget about the plan!_

“You!” Marco grabs a fistful of Jean's shirt and pulls hard. Marco being a big guy, he easily tosses the blond over and rolls before Jean can calm his laughter and jump him again. Marco scoots to the head of the bed and hunches, arms stretched out and ready to counter Jean's assault. Those amber eyes are staring him down again, and _fuck_ does that mess up Marco's insides. He curses his libido's hypersensitivity as Jean slinks up towards him “I'm warning you!”

“Oh?” Jean purrs again, hand reaching for Marco's leg, fingers sliding up under the pant leg and stroking his ankle. “What are you gonna do, babe?”

“I'm gonna throw you off the bed if you don't stop creeping up my leg like that!” Marco blurts out, eyes wide and a low whine digging in his throat. Jean's crawling between his legs now, palms circling around his thighs to cup his ass, yanking their groins together. Marco immediately hiccups at the contact, head popping back and nailing the headboard.

_Unfair, unfair, unfair Jean!_

“You okay?” Jean's breath is hot on his neck again. Marco's protests are getting weaker, his cock is jumping at the insistent grinding, and he swears he's seeing spots from the continuous attack.

He can't take anymore.

“J-Jean!” he plants his hands on his lover's face, pulling him from his descent down Marco's neck and up to catch his gaze. He finds a flushed face, a stare that slays his already cracking resolve, and a sweet smelling scent of sweat and cologne – literally intoxicating.

_Fuck._

“Shower,” he chokes out, shifting at the discomfort of his stiff cock digging against the zipper of his slacks.

“Just how many times are you going to stop me from jumping you?” Jean leans down close, their noses touching. “I'm so fucking _horny_ right now, and I want you to –“ He stops mid sentence, and stares. Literally pinned under him, Marco is lamenting the fact that he feels exactly the same way. He wants to jump Jean too, for crying out loud!

_Wait, what?_

“What...what do you want, Jean?”

The question seems to sent a jolt through the blond and his mouth starts to pop open as if to speak, but shuts it just as quickly. He sits up, looking like he'd been caught like a deer in the headlights. Marco can't help but mirror the look, raising an eyebrow. What is this now? But as soon as the confusing look appears, it's just as quickly gone and Jean slips off the bed.

“You, me, shower, _now.”_ The absolutely erotic tone in Jean's voice nearly ruptures Marco's poor, pounding heart. He can only nod slowly as Jean saunters off to the bathroom. Marco begins to wonder if maybe Jean was possessed by some weird entity when they were at the porn shop. He can't even begin to fathom what in the world is going through his boyfriend's head, or what's making him so fidgety, impatient. Maybe he had too much wine? Jean was definitely more touchy when buzzed, but Marco doesn't remember them drinking that much at the restaurant and it's already been well over two hours since then.

The shower is running by the time he catches up, his hands at work peeling the button down from his person. Jean is already naked, which immediately makes Marco's heart pound with a resounding _thump._ The blond turns, the sharp dip of his pelvic bone and coiling of his waist has Marco fighting not to break the buckle of his belt, fingers gripping it like a vice. Jean eyes him, as if to question why Marco wasn't naked already, and steps into the shower.

_Excuse you for being so fucking hot._

He strips down, kicking his clothes into the corner to put in the hamper later. Much, much later. Marco bends the shower curtain away and comes face to face with his soaking lover.

Jean gives him a very obvious once over, and grins, “Hey, Beautiful.” The endearment never failed to bring a red hue to Marco's cheeks before, and it certainly doesn't now. He looks down at his feet and sees another pair step up close, a finger feathering his chin and tilting him back up to meet with the lips waiting to claim him. Jean's arms lock around Marco's neck – their bodies flush against one another –and pulls him into the stream of water.

Their kisses, now light and soft, become wet as the spray from above drenches them. Jean forks his fingers through Marco's short locks, breaths hot against his mouth as Marco gropes at his hips – thumbs the protruding pelvic bones. Marco can feel the humming through their kisses, closely followed by the low chuckle bubbling from Jean's lips.

“Turn around,” Jean says, voice silky. Marco can do nothing but comply, reluctantly breaking their kiss and turning away from his lover to face away from the water. He shivers at the first contact of sudsy hands on his back moments later, massaging his nape briefly before tracing down the flesh of his shoulder blades. There isn't a trace of embarrassment, only a buzzing pleasure even as Jean touches his pudgier areas, the slight folds and more sensitive spots of his waist where little stretch marks are. The scent of citrus floods Marco's senses, and he sighs happily at the tender attention.

“Mmm,” Marco allows himself a small moan when Jean's hands eventually paw at his ass, and dip between his thighs. His body stiffens with a jolt at the soft brush against his sac, a shiver ripping through his core. His gut twists and his cock swells when the motion is repeated, and that previous quiet moan is repeated with a much more drawn out one when Jean fastens a hand around his half-hard erection.

Marco attempts to turn around to do the same, wanting to touch, wanting to feel, but Jean presses his forehead against Marco's shoulder. His hand is pumping slowly from base to tip, swiping a thumb over the slit where precome is already leaking from Marco's cock. The brunette gasps, panting as his vision gets hazy with the steam and his own twisting pleasure.

“Jean, let me...too,” he tries to reach a hand around, but is stopped and he almost whines in protest. Marco hears a hard breath near his ear, and quivers in place. “Jean...”

“Shhh, just let me, _mm_ ,” Jean's hand squeezes tight around the head as he twists his wrist, jerking hard. Marco can feel the coil tightening in his belly, can feel Jean shifting – writhing behind him and is almost mad that he can't be the one stroking Jean off too. But he allows it, has to allow it because he's _so fucking close_ to coming already (all that fucking kissing damned him, surely), because Jean's shuddering slightly behind him, little pants dancing on Marco's skin and it's driving him insane. He's shivering in place, hand slipping from the slick wall as his knees buckle from beneath him, and Marco has to dart an arm out to clasp desperately to the shower curtain, almost ripping it off from the struggle to stay standing. _God,_ does he want to come so bad. And _fuck_ , does he want to drag Jean from this bathroom back into bed.

“Hm, mm, don't rip it off now,” he hears the teasing words and swings his foot back to kick Jean's shin. The only response he receives is a bite to his shoulder and a quicker pace. Marco nearly howls at the fast growing heat, toes tingling as he lurches forward and lets his mouth drop open. Brown irises watch, trance-like, at the smooth way his lover's hand pulls the pleasure from his body, effortless. The heat is making Marco dizzy, and he grips the curtain even harder as he feels the tightness wrap around and around and around until he's coming with a stiff jerk on the tile below.

A soft kiss presses against Marco's nape, Jean's arms wrapping around his body. The brunette finally is allowed to turn around, Jean's arms loose enough to remain on his person. He taps his forehead against Jean's, and purses his mouth in a pout.

“You're such a tease, you jerk.” he murmurs, nuzzling into the shorter man.

Jean chuckles quietly, watching a trail of soap run down between them, “That sounds like a half-hearted insult there, babe.”

“It's a _very_ half-hearted insult,” he bites Jean's nose.

“Mmm,” Jean plants a firm, plush kiss in return. “To bed, then?”

“Y-yeah,” Marco internally screams, so very ready to get Jean into bed, get his hands on him. “Bed, _please._ ”

Jean swallows heavy, eyes growing darker at the sultry tone, hand groping behind him to turn off the shower faucet. Marco pulls them out of the shower with a new spike of urgency. He's had enough of waiting. It's his turn now – he's wanted to put his hands on Jean all night, a sense of possession that he himself holds that has been creeping up like a suffocating shadow for a long while now.

Marco doesn't give Jean a chance to dry off much either. He simply snatches a wrist after a few seconds and leads him back into the bedroom, back to their bed because fuck the blankets, they'll live with a little water. He doesn't know what's come over him. Maybe it was the endless string of kissing and teasing and how Jean _fucking jerked him off mercilessly_ in the shower, but all Marco can think about is throwing Jean to the bed. Leaning over him, teasing him, kissing him. He's gone mad, but he doesn't care.

“Marco,” they reach the bed and Marco immediate urges Jean down onto the mattress. Let's him crawl backwards to the middle, laying on his back, breath short and eyes blown wide at Marco's insistence. The brunette eyes him through heavy lids, hands dipping deep into the bed as he climbs to join his lover. He lets out a breath, trails the button tip of his nose over the curve of Jean's bent leg – licks the water dripping down his kneecap.

“Where's my bag?” he asks, low and velvety, laced with pent up desire. Jean slides the paper bag down to him, lip between his teeth as a heavy sighs escapes him. Marco flickers his eyebrows, eying him carefully as he seeks for the contents of his own bag.

He pulls out a small jar, glass with a dark colored content and a thin brush attached by an elastic band. He looks at the label – _Sex Fantasy Dark Chocolate Body Paint_ – Marco tries to bite down the wicked smile at the way Jean sucks in a sharp breath. He already knows what it is, already knows what Marco is going to do. Marco can't contain the excitement boiling in his blood.

“Put your leg down, baby,” he coos, brushing a hand along Jean's thigh, pushing it flat. Jean shudders and adjusts – fidgets as Marco climbs over him and settles on his thighs. “Gonna need you do hold this for me, yeah?”

Fuck, he hasn't even done anything yet and he can see the red starting to flourish over Jean's skin.

Absolutely _perfect_.

He uncaps the jar and places it in Jean's waiting hand, sitting in perfect range at their sides. Marco briefly ignores the brush to dip a finger into the creamy chocolate, a pea-size dollop smearing on the index finger and leans over to press it to Jean's lips. He smiles ever so slightly as Jean lays still, only parting his lips as Marco peels them open with his intruding finger.

“Now, Jean, _don't swallow just yet_ , okay?” he slicks a hand up Jean's chest, the droplets of water slowly drying from the warm air around them. Marco's a short breath away from Jean's face, the wandering hand fastens to the sharp jaw of his lover. “Let's taste it together.”

A stinging sensation, swift like a viper, electrifies Marco's senses instantly as he captures his boyfriend's mouth. Not a literal sting, no, but a feeling that builds and escalates as the tingling in his toes, the warmth of their mingling tongues, and the throbbing in his newly stiffened cock intensifies ten fold. Jean's groaning against his lips, simply letting Marco take his tongue into his mouth and suck the remnants of chocolate from the tip.

When their lips part with a wet _pop_ , Marco admires the breathlessness of Jean's face – the pink dusting his high cheek bones, the tiniest bead of sweat on his brow, his thighs twitching under Marco's ass – before tracing hot fingertips down Jean's jaw, which trembles slightly from the touch.

Jean is already sensitive, Marco knows and relishes in the knowledge. The blond has always been one to get stimulated easily, pleasure heightening rapidly during intimacy, leaving him a groaning mess – easy to tease, easy to send rocketing over the edge. Marco knows this, and that's why he bought the paint. Because he wants to make Jean feel amazing, make him shiver and jump and groan Marco's name in that _particular_ way that leaves the brunette aching all over. Because he wants to see Jean's impatience, feel the nails raking over his skin in demand. Because Marco wants to see Jean inundate and –

Taking one last nip of Jean's bottom lip, Marco sits back in his original perch on toned thighs, sliding his ass over Jean's crotch on the way, just hard enough to drag a groan from his boyfriend's lips. He smiles, excited, and finally takes the brush. 'Accidentally' strokes the feather soft bristles over Jean's exposed skin, brown eyes focusing on reactions – obsessed with the slightest tremble.

Marco swipes the brush into the jar, his flavored palette and leans with intent over the blond, his smoldering canvas. He uses a free finger to gently tilt Jean's head up, and strokes a trail along his neck – short, repeated strokes, fancy and thin like an earthy feather. Jean cranes his head back instinctively, sucking in a small breath as Marco brings the brush back down along the pattern, smearing the point down to Jean's clavicle.

By any means, Marco isn't an artist, not a Picasso or Michelangelo, but he knows it doesn't matter. Jean won't even have a moment to contemplate what is being put on him, only how it's going to be removed. Marco leans close, huffing a hot breath over his art, mouth spreading in a humored smile that Jean can't even see but definitely feels as lips press on his ear.

“You know, I've been thinking about something,” Marco murmurs, tongue darting out to smear the end of the chocolate wave on Jean's taut neck. He sucks the skin there, savoring the clean of Jean's skin and the sweetness of the confection. Pinching the skin between playful teeth, tongue swirling, leaving marks of red in a trail as he works his way down Jean's collar, Marco eyes the blond's face. He can only see Jean's lips, his head still cranked back as he's devoured, but Marco can see the way his mouth drops open – teeth occasionally scrapping at his bottom lip.

Marco bites a little harder when the paint is gone, and feels a jolt of pleasure seeing Jean's body jump, and continues, “ – about how...unfair you've been today.”

A nasally sigh escapes Jean's nose, and fingers are suddenly in Marco's hair, flexing against his scalp. Marco lets his eyes drift up along Jean's chest, and meets the sudden fiery amber in a stare that nearly renders him limp in Jean's lap. Marco knows that gaze is challenging him, questioning his claim, but Marco simply presses his lips down on the pectoral below his chin, and leads the fingers in his hair down into view with a firm hand.

He'll drag this out as long as he can, because the desire to drive his lover crazy is pooling thick in his stomach all the way down to his cock.

He dips the chocolate again, and leans back again.

“It is unfair, Jean,” Marco hums, as if Jean had actually questioned him. He brings the blond's fingers close to his face, blows air on the tips. “You've been nothing but _amazing_ to me all day.”

Marco taps the bristles to a fingertip, flicks the brush down the fleshy pad.

“It's unfair,” he repeats, hushed as he drags the new stroke of sugar down the digit and across Jean's open palm. “ – because you are always nothing but amazing to me. For a _whole fucking year_ , I've been knocked off my feet.”

He hears Jean suck in a breath, watch him with insanely hot amber eyes, clouding more and more with darkened arousal. Marco's outwardly vulgar language is a rare thing, and it only adds to the fire brewing between them. Marco feels the stiff cock bob against his own, rocks into it with a soft sigh.

Marco swipes his tongue up the open palm, lapping up the chocolate, “How can I even begin to give that back?” Marco's eyes, milky dark brown and steaming, stare into his lover's, crackling with heat. Just as Jean is about to open his mouth, eyes wide, Marco closes his lips over the tip of the blond's finger and sucks it into his mouth.

“Mmn, Marco,” the first words from Jean's mouth in a long while drip with the syrupy thickness that easily matches their heavy set arousal and the hot air around them. He suckles messily, longer than is necessary really, but Marco couldn't give two fucks when Jean is squirming so beautifully – just from his finger being sucked on.

Marco has him right where he wants him.

He lets the finger drop, spit ribboning from his lips to fingertip and _fuck_ does that look sexy – messiness be damned. Marco dips again. His gaze darts, mind ever circling, tongue wetting his lips.

“What can I do,” the brush's next target is a very perky pink nipple, dyed dark from a quick caress. “ – to compete with that? Shall I drive us both mad?” Marco briefly wonders if his cock can get any harder, and quickly gets his answer when Jean lets out a _very_ audible whimper, arm crossing over his mouth to muffle anything else.

_Yes, yes it can._

“Tell me baby,” Marco teases the nipple with a slow, flat lick, chocolate gone within moments. The sugar is starting to go to his head, leaves his tongue a little numbed to taste, but still pulls that pert tip into his mouth, lavishes it with attention. He lets the brush drop, lets it roll to the bed and pinches the other nipple between two fingers, pulls it and Jean's soon arching off the bed.

“Nngh,” the moves grind their cocks together again, and Marco can feel the precome dripping between them. Marco could care less, he grinds with unrelenting vigor against that wetness and shivers when their gazes meet again. Jean uncovers his mouth, lets his arm rest above his head and as if to speak, opens his lips. There's no words, only a flushed face looking at Marco, as if Jean can't speak the words he wants to say – too blindsided with the way Marco is mouthing down his stomach with wet kisses, tongue lathering his skin, chocolate simply forgone for intimate contact.

“ _Tell me_ ,” Marco whispers, voice hoarse with desire, lips sucking. Anything his mouth can't reach, his hands follow suit, mapping and caressing across Jean's body – his sensitive ribs, flexing abdomen, shivering hips. Marco is just noticing now, how the dim lamp they have as the only light in the room illuminates Jean's tanned body as he travels upon it. The dipping curves and tensing muscles of the blond's quivering form is much like the ebb and flow of an ember current.

Jean's breaths are small and shaky, and his hands seem to fumble above him, but Marco soon realizes that the jar of chocolate is now on the floor with the abandoned gaming guitar. He doesn't mind, much more preoccupied with nipping along the small trail of curls just below Jean's navel, and scooting his body further down to get more comfortable. Preoccupied with the glistening wet cock he's about to reach and _fuck_ does Marco want to reach it. Wants to swallow it whole, a small internal conflict between revenge for earlier and wanting to please the fuck out of his boyfriend.

It's probably a little of both.

Marco curls a hand around Jean's cock, thumbs the dribbling precome, pulls it taut and straight. He ignores the way Jean's hands immediately jump to his shoulders, fingers pawing, voice growling – maybe even whining. Marco can't exactly tell with the buzzing going on in his head, screaming at him to just eat the fucking dick already because that's what he's been waiting for.

He shuffles one last time, and Jean bends his legs out, lets Marco spread them open so he can rest snug between his thin, yet toned thighs. Marco stares at the cock in his hand for a moment, clenches his tummy to keep the shivers at bay when the stiff erection pulses in his hand.

_Fuck._

The brunette takes a slow, pensive lick on the tip, dragging the leaking come down the shaft – lapping it up with a flat tongue. The long, sultry moan from above makes his fist tighten, and the moan grows louder. He's throbbing so bad, Marco can feel each beat in his closed hand – Jean is probably already drifting in that close-to-coming limbo. It excites the brunette. Marco takes the head into his mouth, lets his dark eyes drift up to meet Jean's, who is already staring and his hands tighten on Marco – urging, begging.

_Double fuck._

Marco decides to hell with teasing and goes full throttle, bottoming out within moments and sucks hard on Jean's cock, cheeks hollowing with pressure. The blond's nails rake harshly on Marco's skin, flaring red lines as his throat releases the most delicious cry Marco thinks he's ever heard. Jean tosses his head back instantly, and Marco feels the bucking sensation in the back of his throat. He takes the thrusting easily, moves his mouth in a parallel dance to keep his sucking constant and Marco knows it drives Jean insane.

They've played this game before, and Marco never loses.

He swirls his tongue around, twisting about as Marco lets his mouth climb back up, lets the tangy liquid string from his lips as he releases the crimson-flushed cock. Just as quickly – not even allowing Jean a moment to groan in protest – Marco drops back down again, burying his nose in tauny curls. He swallows once and Jean jerks again, lifting off the bed, then swallows a second time. Not even a second later, Jean is coming deep in his mouth, the blond's voice loud and absolutely erotic to Marco's ears.

A moment passes, then two, then three.

Jean is still squeezing his shoulders, and it takes Marco a moment to realize that he hasn't stopped mouthing at the sensitive cock between his lips. That voice from above is pulling him like a siren's song, yanking something carnal from his insides.

“M-Marco,” Jean keens, head snapping forward to watch Marco with some twisted fascination at the intense sensitivity flooding him, yet pleasure still pooling. “Please, I can't – down – move...I – _ahh!!_ ”

Marco finally moves, tongue wet and wandering down to Jean's sac, sucking the skin between. He doesn't do this often, but Marco wants to push for reasons he can't explain. That feeling in his gut knots up like a tangled rope, tight, _insisting._ He dips his tongue out, licks the underside of his lover's balls, coaxes one into his mouth and the stuttering gasp that greets him is blissful.

Marco's seeing red, feverish and hot – going insane.

His hand is sinking down, his mouth occupied, spit spilling down his jaw as he lightly sucks and laps at the flesh between his lips. Marco listens – drowns in the desperate moans bubbling from Jean's mouth, the harsh panting and grasping fingers and lets his eyes roll back. His own body is shuddering hard, partly from the ache in his knees and partly from the intense need to wrench more of that bewitching sound from his lover.

His fingers dip, stroking over the stretch of skin below Jean's balls. He stops his suckles and licks to look down, eyes hazy as they focus on his own fingers seeking lower and lower – and suddenly, Marco stops dead when the startled gasp rips from his boyfriend's throat.

His eyes shoot up, alarmed and searching and his chest nearly explodes at the sight before him.

Jean's staring right back at him, amber eyes wide and lips quivering. The one hand still on Marco's person – as one had dropped to the bed, squeezing the sheets – grips, strokes at the stinging skin. Marco can feel the shaking in his fingertips. It nearly sucks the air from Marco's lungs. It's then that Marco realizes the position he's in, the position Jean's in.

“J-Jean,” Marco pauses, clears his throat from the stickiness left. “I'm sorry, should I sto –“

Before he even finishes, Jean's shaking his head, pawing at him again, “No, no...no. “ The blond's face is so flushed, a brilliant, brilliant red and Marco, for a split moment, hesitates.

_This is..._

Marco then becomes curious, frighteningly curious as he sees Jean teeth at his own lip. It's curious, but it also feels dangerous because Marco realizes that he's starting to teeter into an unknown territory. A space that has been left unexplored because of the comfort of routines, the comfort of being embraced by the one person he loves more than anyone else. Marco's curious because he's seeing a reflection of something in those molten amber eyes.

Familiar, dazzling, heart-stopping.

He realizes it's himself he sees, like a mirror, yet showing something much, much deeper.

Before he knows it, Marco is crawling over Jean again. Not on top of him to perch on his hips, like he always loves to do, but between his toned thighs. His sizable body arches over Jean, large hands bracketing his face and Marco hears Jean suck in a shaky breath as he leans down to press their lips together in an incredibly slow, yet hot kiss.

It's as if he's plummeting under water, the way Jean quietly moans into his mouth is both exhilarating and terrifying all at once. It's not the same as usual. There is a foreign air rushing about and it's clawing at him deep in his coiled stomach. Marco tilts his chin to deepen their connection, a stinging jolt coursing through his entire body.

His lover shivers beneath him, and Marco is nearly overwhelmed by how _different_ things are in this moment. They've kissed plenty of times, he's ridden on top of Jean plenty of times, they've made love, fucked, touched each other _so many times_ that Marco wouldn't be able to fathom the number.

But this is _different._

Marco is pressed against Jean now, body gently resting over him, groin experimentally rolling into the blond's. Their faces are close, noses touching, breathes mingling, every sharp breath Jean takes rings in Marco's ears and he wants. He wants, he wants, he fucking _wants._

He realizes moments later that they're grinding, Jean's moaning and grabbing at him and Marco can't stop kissing the swollen lips right in front of him and –

“Marco,” the murmur is hoarse, and Marco feels like the sound of him gulping echoes in his ears, heart starting to beat less like a normal organ and more like a racing freight train ready to crash. He stops his movement when Jean pushes at him, stills in alarm because for a second, he thinks Jean is pushing him _away._

Marco leans back, rests on his aching knees once again, and sucks in a startled breath when Jean shifts on the pillows, partially sitting up. Marco can't help but eye the perfectly round ass before him, _that sweet spot_ as Jean lifts his legs to brace his feet flat on the mattress _._ Marco's unsure of what is really happening until the gap between Jean's legs widens, the muscles of his thighs wire tight and flexing under the stretch, exposing himself completely.

_Oh my god._

“Jean?” Marco palms a bent knee, strokes the skin gently. His mind is dizzy, and like a whirlwind, memories of the entire day – memories of even before that, come flooding in. “You...?”

Jean crosses his arms over his face, hiding his hazy eyes, and mumbles, “I...cleaned... _god,_ please don' make me say it.”

Marco shivers at the shaky tone his lover holds, sees the quivering in his open legs and can't help the small “What?” that escapes his lips. Jean releases a long breath, silent for several seconds. It almost scares Marco, eyes glued on the vulnerable body in front of him – on his lips that finally open.

“That I want you...want you to - ” Jean lets his arm fall above his head, fixing Marco with a stare that the brunette can only describe as diffident. Brown eyes widen, a puzzle Marco didn't know existed suddenly comes together, glues into place and presents him with the person before him – open.

Marco realizes for the first time – as Jean's peculiar behavior slams into him with full force – what he had been trying to tell him this whole time.

_'Me too...'_

He had heard him right.

_'Both ways...you serious? Like...'_

That sudden remark –

_'I...I see.'_

– and the sudden reply.

_'Somethin' in my throat.'_

His awkward reactions in the doorway.

_'Shh, just let me, mmm.'_

He wasn't stroking off, he was –

“ – touch me.” the murmur is low, and if it weren't for Marco's hypersensitive attentiveness to his lover's current state of being, he probably would have missed it.

Just like how he's missed it for god knows how long. The brunette is beside himself, his mouth drops, jaw tense as Jean averts his eyes.

_How could I?_

“I – I didn't think,” Marco blurts before he can stop himself. “I didn't think you'd want me to because I'm –“

Oh. _Oh._

Jean fixes him with a firm gaze, “You _know_ something like that doesn't matter to me.”

Marco nods, knows that already. To be honest, he'd never even thought about their bedroom activities reversing since long, long ago. Back in the early weeks of their relationship. Back when he was still fighting himself. Eventually, he forgot about it completely, letting himself be buried in Jean's heat and passion. Forgot that maybe Jean would want that too.

He feels deplored. Guilty.

Marco meets that amber stare, “Why didn't you tell me?” Jean clicks his knees together, momentarily hiding himself, arms dropping down to cover his stomach. Marco sucks in a small breath, sensing such a deep setting familiarity in this position.

Insecurity.

“I...I tried.”

Marco stops breathing, chest hurting – feeling that familiar sting burn him from the inside. God, how could he have been so oblivious? He closes his eyes, lets himself lean forward until his forehead taps on Jean's knees, lets his hands – shaking, numb – lightly caress down the blond's calves to settle on his ankles.

Yes, yes, Jean did try. Marco thinks back to the whole day, less in the feverish, crazy in love way. He focuses less on how his lover treated him and more on how Jean was acting. The touchy, jittery behavior that Jean displayed the whole day. His uncharacteristic stuttering, his more-than-usual forward affection, they way he always seemed to pull Marco to him as if he wanted to be covered – branded in everything that was the tall, plushy brunette.

He really had tried, in his own Jean-like way, Marco realizes with a wry smile.

Jean simply doesn't know how to ask for something like this, and the words kept failing him – stopping him, because he's _afraid_ of asking for something like this.

Jean has those thoughts – deep pitted feelings too. How foolish to think Jean was made of steel, when his heart was indeed strong, but endlessly tender. He has insecurities just like Marco does, did, and it took this long for him to learn of them.

Jean didn't know how to ask, and Marco didn't think to sense it - a never ending circle, left undiscovered until now. 

“I'm sorry,” Marco whispers, presses his lips to Jean's knee. “I'm so sorry I didn't notice.”

Jean is silent, watching Marco as the brunette plants small kisses on his knees, wrapping his soft arms around those tanned legs. Marco can feel the sting in his eyes, clamps them shut. He doesn't move. Neither of them do for several moments, just sitting there in the dim glow, until Marco feels something soft brush his hand. Jean still doesn't say a word, simply takes Marco's hand, tugs it – a silent request.

_Whatever you want, I'll give it to you. I'll give you everything._

Their eyes meet, and that flickering flame burns to life – slowly, _slowly,_ but firmly. Marco swallows, shifts simultaneously as Jean tilts his legs down to the bed, his body twisting so Marco can easily move. Marco takes in a slow, shuddering breath as he leans dangerously close, sizzling hand balancing himself on Jean's hip. He lays himself next to his quiet lover, nose brushing along the blond's jaw as he settles at Jean's side.

“Marco,” Jean breaths, tilting his head back, Marco's lips coaxing small gasps from him as they graze over his skin. Marco hums, arm circling Jean's head, palming his forehead – brushing back Jean's hair fringe. The other hand sweeps across Jean's body, rests on his stomach. Marco pulls him in, kissed him soft, licks his lips. Nibbles the flesh before they part and their tongues meet and caress, gentle and languid. Marco sucks the pink flesh between teeth, tugs and licks before releasing him, mouthing down Jean's sharp jaw in a painfully gradual descent to his ear.

The pads of his fingers press, play with the hair trail leading down to Jean's groin.

“Okay?” the brunette asks nervously, voice shaky. Jean swallows, gasps at the sensual nips along the span of his throat. Marco can feel his ears grow hot, the sound making him combust from the inside.

“Please,” the blond murmurs back, shivering, finding his voice. “ _Please._ ”

Marco nods against the hot skin of his boyfriend, ready to please, and lets his other hand slide back down, touching Jean's half-hard cock. He fists him, wrapping smooth fingers around the shaft and giving it short, loose strokes. The moan next to Marco's ear sends electricity down his spine, makes his own cock twitch back to life. He works over Jean's cock languidly, feeds off the small pants tickling his neck.

Jean's squirming, hips gyrating and bucking into Marco's hand as he flails with desperate need. The brunette can nearly rest his cheek on Jean's chest with the way he arches high off the bed, hands pulling at Marco's hair, digging under the pillows – grasping for purchase anywhere he can find. Marco presses a kiss to the skin grazing his lips, licks the pert nipple tenderly as he glances down at his working hand.

He sucks in a breath, nerves on high rise as he strokes down, releases Jean's cock. The muscle of Jean's thigh trembles as Marco swipes his hand along it, right along the smooth inner side. Jean rolls his head, lets it drop in the soft curve of Marco's neck, breath puffs of heat as he lets his limb be guided between Marco's. The blond sighs, voice breathy as Marco's hand travels slowly down, down, down, well below the apex of his thighs.

Marco wants to go slowly, really he does, but Jean's voice is a beautiful curse as much as a blessing. He bites his tongue, nips at Jean's skin, kisses everywhere – anything to slow his racing heart and his skittish mind.

He watches his boyfriend's mouth slacken as inexperienced fingers spread his ass, brush shyly over the ring of muscle and takes the chance to tilt up and mouth at Jean's plush bottom lip, tongue dipping smoothly, gently inside once again. Marco drags the tip of the teasing pink muscle along the roof of Jean's mouth and the action – along with another press of his fingers – causes Jean to shiver. Marco's cock jumps between his own thick legs, spills with precome, and the tiniest of moans slips from his throat. Jean's skin flares, smolders like fire under the brunette's touch. Marco's insides feel like they're on fire. There's so much blazing, passionate red –

They're both _burning_.

He's being pulled close, their mouths seal together perfectly, as if they were made for one another. They probably were, if Marco were to have say in it. Everything feels surreal to him in this moment – the kisses, the groping hands, the heat of Jean's body – Marco almost can't take it. He doesn't want to tear his mouth away, doesn't want to let go but –

“Jean, baby,” he pauses, gasping as the hand in his hair tugs him back down for another searing kiss. Jean refuses to release him, refuses to let their lips remain separated. Marco isn't sure if it's because even the caress of his fingers on his ass is making him crazy, or the kisses drown his mewls. He attempts to compromise by biting at Jean's lips instead, manages to speak, “Baby, where's the lube?”

It's there in less than two seconds, the tube almost clipping him in the face at the speed Jean thrusts it at him. Marco bites down a chuckle and pulls the hand playing at his boyfriend's ass up, clicks the cap open.

“ _Squeeze for me?_ ” he hums, grazing lips and husky tone low. The cool feel of gel on his fingers sends a chill of excitement shooting through Marco's veins. It could also be the dangerously sexy bite on his throat too, he's not too sure, nor does he care. The lubricant coats his fingers generously, and Marco is thankful that at least Jean knows how this goes, because he's never done this before, and that lingering nervousness tickles his throat, but the absolute adrenaline surge is overpowering.

He uses that adrenaline, lets it take over – fuel him as his hand dips low again, Jean's legs open and ready. He hears the small intake of breath from his boyfriend, and the hand on Jean's forehead pulls him back, exposing his throat. Marco places his lips there, licks the bead of sweat dripping down that lean curve.

 “Ready?” Marco murmurs, burning, tense. His fingers are right _there_ , brushing, teasing, and Jean can only let out a shaky moan before nodding, teeth gnawing his lips. The brunette take in the sight, basks in the sweet smell of soaps and sweat, and touches Jean's sweet spot, fingertip pressing gently and insistently into the tight entrance. Jean jerks instantly, gasping at the intrusion, and Marco presses more kisses along his neck, raking his other hand through the sandy tresses.

All Marco can process is an incredible heat as he inches his finger in, and the sensation of wetness and squeezing only further devours Marco's mind – fuzzy and spinning and wildly flying out of control. The brunette can't help but wonder if this is what goes through Jean's mind when he's fingering him, Marco feels his own body shaking as Jean's pants and gasps sizzle in his ears. Does he feel like everything is on fire? Does he go crazy from having that small part inside him, opening him, pleasuring him?

Marco can feel the leg of his lover's shake between his own, and he knows that the leaking precome from his own cock is smeared and dripping down Jean's thigh. Dribbling down his own thigh. The arm wrapped around Marco's wide shoulders tightens, a particularly breathy moan sounds out like a melody in his ears as he eases in a second finger, thrusting his fingers gently in a smooth rhythm.

“You okay, Jean?” he wants to ask, needs to ask because in the end, Marco doesn't know what he's doing. He's only experimenting with pushes and touches, and seeks the validation that he's doing something right, that Jean feels good. Jean's noises should tell him everything, and oh fuck do they, but Marco wants to hear it – Jean's voice, Jean's words, talking to him. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

Marco tests it, curves his two fingers up against tight walls, drags them against it as he retreats. Pushes them back in with a harder plunge, stiffening a groan at the sudden tightness.

“Ah, _ahh!_ ” the reaction is glorious, Jean arching off the bed, moaning loudly. A lot louder than he usually gets, and that's an intense turn on as it is. That, and the way the blond's abs tighten, harden and flex as the tension in his body rises is a sight that causes Marco's breath to catch. The light that licks the ridges, paints Jean's body just as seductively as the chocolate once had.

“ _Mmm,_ Marco, so _go-nnngh_ –“

Marco doesn't even know if he's even breathing anymore, he feels like he's being electrocuted from head to toe, burning and shuddering constantly as he works his boyfriend open, turns him inside out. Jean's high arc drops, his body curving and swaying his ass against his fingers, neck craning as he pants. A bead of sweat drips along sunny flesh, Marco can feel it as he caresses Jean's forehead with his other hand. The sensations are tantalizing, rippling in his tummy, and Marco has to resist touching himself. His hand on Jean's head clamps the slightest bit harder, restraining desperately.

_Oh god, oh god._

It's moments later, sudden and spine tingling, that Jean yanks Marco's face down, bites his lips – consumes him. Jean's moans don't soften, only vibrate their lips as he kisses the life out of Marco, pants into him as he shakes. Marco thinks he can hear murmurs against his mouth, but the sounds of wetness down below and the light pops of their lips parting drown out any coherency. Just as Marco starts to ease in that third finger – really dragging a loud, muffled mewl from the blond lip-locking him – something is pressed to his chest. Cloudy brown eyes drift down without much movement – Jean has his head locked in a vice like grip as he mouths at him wherever his swollen lips can reach – and sitting between pink-hued fingers is a thin wrapper.

A condom.

“Marco,” Jean bubbles between kisses. “Marco, _please_ , I need – need you, oh _god, I need you.”_

A shiver wracks Marco's whole body, and he's once again blindsided by how intense the feeling is. He slows his fingers, squelching down that feeling of wanting to devour, scream, and come all at once – reasoning quickly capsizing. He knows it's not a good idea, not yet. Jean's still tight, and above anything else, he doesn't want to hurt his lover.

“Jean, you're not –“

“I can't take it anymore, _please,_ ” Jean's begging sounds liquified in his ears, like he's seconds from crying. That low, almost feeble tone blending in and out through all his ministrations on Marco's mouth, jaw, and neck. “I want you so bad, Marco.”

Marco distantly thinks that Jean's voice may just be the devil in disguise.

He fumbles to take the condom from Jean's fingers, set it elsewhere so it's not being pressed so insistently against his chest, “Baby, it's gonna hurt if I don't...”

Jean squirms, tries to push himself on those fingers, grunts and bites at Marco's lip, “Don' care. I don't – _ahhh –_ care.” He starts to tug at Marco, pulling him, urging him on top. “Please? Please, _please._ ”

Marco's resistance officially crumbles within seconds. Not from the prodding hands guiding him, or the wet heat that meets his cock as he settles between Jean's legs, or even from the constant, throaty pleas thrown at him – assaulting his senses. No, the final snap happens when he glances up and sees those eyes – Jean's eyes – staring at him.

Into him.

Igneous amber, overflowing with desire, with _need_ that Marco mirrors so heavily that all hope to argue with the blond is null and void – lost in the passion that threatens to drown them both.

Marco never could have dreamed that something like this could feel so sublime, so carnal.

The fact that Jean's wanted this for so long makes Marco's stomach flutter, makes him wish that he'd noticed sooner, makes him promise to do whatever in his power to make up for that.

He takes the condom, pretends not to notice the sensual way Jean raises his arms back above his head, clamping on the pillow as he bites his lip. Pretends not to notice the way the blond stares at his cock as he sheathes the latex over it, lubricates it with the cool gel that makes him stiffen even more. Pretends not to notice the ever present fact that he's so wound up that he might just end up coming on the spot.

Marco releases a deep breath, strokes a hand along Jean's inner thigh, cautious. His lover's legs spread further upon contact, a foot gently caressing around his plush waist, urging him forward.

 _Come here,_ Jean's amber eyes are clearly beckoning him as clear as if the words had been spoken.

“J-Jean,” he scoots, hisses as his very hard cock comes into contact with Jean's spread ass. Marco can already feel himself breathing harder, nervousness and excitement somehow coexisting within him, causing him to bump a little too hard against Jean's entrance. The blond unsurprisingly jumps, a small, startled hum escaping his lips, his eyes fluttering shut as if to prepare himself.

“ 'm sorry,” the brunette blurts out, to which Jean simply shakes his head.

Marco takes one last deep breath, chants _slowly, slowly, slowly_ endlessly in his mind, and pushes the tip of his cock into his lover. Almost in tandem, as if a signal bell had sounded, both men groan as Marco manages to inch in little by little. One of Jean's feet slam on the mattress, and Marco notes with loaded, heartrending chills that Jean is already tense and panting. His hands are nearly white-knuckled, clinging to the pillow that half curtains his face as he twists into it.

Marco can see the glossiness in the one visible eye, and immediately, he stops, moves to retreat. A hand suddenly clapping on his bracing arm halts him, and Marco sees amber again.

“Don't you dare,” comes the command, hoarse and velvety. “ _Don't you dare._ ”

“Jean –“

“No,” the blond's hand travels up Marco's body, fingers barely able to reach his face until Marco leans into it, cups the brunette's soft cheek. “I'll be okay. I promise. Just...come up here with me. Please.”

His voice is uneven, Marco notices, and can only nod helplessly and curl over his lover. Meet his lips in a soft kiss that lingers with the pain he knows Jean feels. This isn't unfamiliar. Their first time, their very first with crying and distant pain and blanket forts and gentle murmurs, it all started with the same request – but from Marco's lips. He can't help but nuzzle his nose along the curve of Jean's cheek, press their foreheads together, share his breaths.

He inches forward, eyes never breaking from his lover's, watching. He inches until they're completely joined – connected to the core. Marco breathes, smiles softly as they sit there in silence while Jean adjusts, grows comfortable.

The next words that leave Marco are automatic, “You're beautiful.”

He hears the light, clipped breathes from Jean's nose – a silent chuckle, and feels him relax, feels him smile against Marco's impossibly hot skin. Jean coils his arms around Marco then, buries his face in the crook of his neck – presses his lips against the rapid pulse beneath the surface.

“I'm okay, babe,” he rolls his hips. “ _Move._ ”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes._ ”

The first pull is mind-blowing. The following, achingly slow thrust is equally as shattering, but eventually, Marco is moving in a gentle rhythm – a number of shallow strokes followed by a long, hilt-deep thrust. His body is crackling with jolts of pleasure, only intensifying when a low, velvety moan licks at his ears. Jean squeezes him tight, feet tangling around Marco's waist, digging into the thick flesh. Marco shakes the bead of sweat from his brow, tests the waters even further by a sharp jerk of his hips, cock snapping fast, burying balls deep in Jean's tight ass.

“ _Oh god, Ma –“_ Jean silences himself, breathless. Marco lifts his head just a bit, just enough to brush his mouth along the shell of his lover's ear.

“Do you... feel good?” he hums, sucking the blond's lobe, thrusting harder. “Jean _,_ baby _, god you're so beautiful._ ”

Jean's hands are on his back, clawing as a whimper escapes his lips, body bucking off the bed. Marco lets out a moan of his own, air hot on Jean's ear, fueled by each movement, by each sound that resonates about the room.

“Oh god – _ahh –_ yes, feels so good,” Jean drawls, rocking hard into Marco's pistoning hips. “So good, you're so fucking good. Oh _fuck_ , please, _Marco_.”

His ass is becoming unbelievably tight around Marco's cock, it's making him delirious. He can see white spots from the strokes of ecstasy coursing through his body, and he has to grab at Jean's hips for purchase, grabs and slams his hips – the growing sting both painful and euphoric.

Jean comes shortly after, loud and demanding as his heels dig into Marco's ass. _Harder, harder, don't stop, please don't stop –_ the words are echoing in his brain, even after their stomachs are spotted with come, even as Marco's stomach rapidly begins to coil and twist violently, the words are still spilling from Jean's lips.

Marco can only obey, panting hard.

The brunette doesn't even think it's possible to thrust any harder, his thrusts are getting messy and he's sure that their skin will be adorned with flaming red from how harshly their bodies slam together. He pours his remaining stamina – how it's lasted this long baffles him, honestly – into picking up speed instead. Driving himself closer and closer to that cliff, so fucking ready to topple over the edge.

“Oh god,” Marco feels it then, body seizing instantly, and drops his head to Jean's chest with a thud, panting. “ _Fuck_ _,_ Jean.”

“Come on babe,” Jean urges, legs pulling, body wrapping around Marco as he shudders. “You feel s _o amazing, Marco_. Come on.”

With a large, nearly choking gasp, Marco comes hard, hands impossibly tight on Jean's hips as he instinctively pumps himself dry inside. His body quakes so hard from the throbbing pleasure that he seizes movement almost instantly, dropping onto his lover, gulping for air. His breathing eventually slows, soft hiccups breaking the warm silence about the room. Marco shifts, kisses Jean's sternum, and feels a hand paw at his face.

He curls into the palm, nuzzles it without a care in the world that it's a bit clammy – simply craving the touch. Dazed, Marco looks up into Jean's eyes, and smiles faintly.

“Hmhm, we really need to do something about that voice of yours,” Marco humors, stretching to peck Jean on the lips quick before leaning back on his knees. The ache in his hips and lower back are intense, but overall his body is humming with afterglow and subtle pleasure.

Marco's elated, very much so.

Carefully, he removes the messy latex, knots and tosses it just as Jean's sitting up to grab at him. Marco scrunches his nose as it hits the side of the little garbage can underneath their nightstand, playfully swats at the giggling blond.

“Heh, you know you like it,” Jean teases, leaning carefully, avoiding sitting flat on his rear and attempts to slide his arms around the brunette's shoulders. He nuzzles Marco's shoulder, lashes tickling his sensitive skin. Marco smiles, lightly scratching Jean's nape, and scoots off the bed.

Jean shoots him a drowsy pout, “Where the hell you goin'? Get back here and make out with me.”

Shaking a finger, Marco blows an air kiss before traipsing to the bathroom, cans the condom on the way, leaving a whiny boyfriend behind. When he comes back a couple minutes later, Jean automatically reaches for him with grabby hands, smiling like a dork.

“Are you always this weird?” Marco laughs, crawling back into bed – into Jean's arms and lets himself get taken over by possessive lips. He brandishes a wet cloth, cool to the touch, and wipes it over Jean's abdomen.

“Seeing as I just had the most amazing day, and the most amazing sex – _Pretty sure_ I'm allowed to be a little weird, babe,” Jean's grin is contagious. Marco quirks a brow, huffing happily as his lover pulls him down, wraps around him – snuggling close, intimately into Marco's side.

“Well, when you put it that way...”

“Mmm, yeah,” Jean nips at Marco's neck. “Too bad we'll have to eventually shower again. I could just lay here for the rest of the night and eat you.”

“Naughty.”

“ _Mhmm_ ,” Jean tilts his head forward as Marco lavishes the heated skin of his nape with the cooled cloth. “Damn, that feels good.”

Marco's throat croons, acknowledging, and continues to wipe down Jean's back, “Too bad about the eating thing, you know, but I do happen to have a bath ready for us. Should be tolerable in ten minutes or so.”

“Hooo, so there is time to make out,” the blond wiggles an eyebrow, nibbles on skin.

Marco snorts, “Monster in my bed, lucky me.”

“Mhmm,” Jean proves that right by continuing his assault, marking spot after spot up Marco's throat.

Eventually the playful nips cease, and Jean simply lets himself lay limp – relaxed, on Marco's soft body. Fingers gently rapping on the brunette's collar, counting freckles – an act Jean tends to do when sleepy. Marco admires the droopy gaze, amber glimmering in the lamplight, and can't help but run his hand through his boyfriend's flaxen hair.

Minutes pass, and Marco doesn't want to rouse Jean from his half-slumber, but murmurs anyway, “Come on, Jean. Let's go soak quick.”

Jean lets out a tiny groan of protest when he's moved from his comfy spot on Marco's chest, arms dragging until they flop on the bed. He pouts until Marco slowly crouches at the side of the bed.

“Come on, I'll carry you.”

“Really?”

“Mmm,” Marco tilts his head, looking back.

“Oh my god, where have you been all my life??” Jean sighs gratefully, climbs awkwardly onto Marco's back.

“Up until two years ago, in Jinnai. Then, at college, your dorm room, and now our bed.”

“Sass.”

The warmth between them is comforting, and though his legs are wobbling, he manages to lift himself and Jean up. The blond locks his chin over a freckled shoulder, and hums lowly, “My ass is so wrecked right now.”

Marco reddens instantly, embarrassed, “I'm sorry!” His squeak is tiny, like a mouse. Jean chuckles behind him, squeezes him tighter, whispers huskily –

“Babe, _babe,_ no. You have free reign to wreck me anytime. And just so you know, I'm wiggling my eyebrows at you suggestively.” Jean drums his fingers as Marco takes a small step towards their destination – watery heaven. The brunette can feel the wide spread lips on his collar.

He pauses, glances over again – thoughtful, “You know...shouldn't there be a thing here...? Some comment about riding off into the sunset on your noble steed?”

“Sunset?”

“The bathroom light _is_ on right now.”

Jean's chortling, holding in his giggles, “And noble steed?”

“Well, you _are_ riding on my back.”

“And _not_ have a horse joke at _my_ expense. Well shit, ain't you a keeper? Is there a limit to how much I'll fall in love with you?”

“I sure hope not.”

“Does this mean I get to ride you later?”

_Oh damn._

Marco coughs loudly, step faltering, then laughs loudly, “Oh my god, Jean! Haha, whatever you want, baby.”

Jean's legs flail playfully at Marco's hips, “Sunsets _and_ free rides? Done deal. Sold. My love for you is infinite, babe. Now, my noble steed – ” the blond lets out a sharp snort and Marco can't help but laugh too as he walks forward again. “ – haha, into the sunset, err lightbulb – _snrrk –_ whatever, sunsety bathroom!”

“Hahaha.”

They disappear into the bathroom moments later. The laughter fades, a split second of silence, and then –

“Holy fuck yeah, a bubble bath! I fucking _love you!_ ”

_Right back at you, Jean._

 

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Welllllp, there it is. Next up on Zephyr writes AU smut is the punk/pastel universe! Two little pieces planned and they will be much, MUCH shorter than these. These and future smut one shots will be now collected in a series called Color Sexual, so if you enjoyed these, stay on the lookout! (My Tumblr - same penname - also has random updates too, by the by.) Leave a kudos or comment or psychic love, and thank you so much for reading this monster love story of mine! <333


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